Lead
by Flutter-Pony
Summary: A series of non chronological one shots based on the great dances of life. Chapter 2: Waltz.
1. Chapter 1

Tango; The dance of seduction.

Finally. It had been a day of longing. Longing for her to wake, sleep, smile, sigh. Longing to feel her.

Jennifer reaches out a tiny fist, finding his chest. It has taken him 20 minutes to swaddle her in that blanket with the fuzzy red daisies on it and still she fluttered her arm and escaped.

But her tiny eyes are closing again, perfect pink lips yawn and then rest. Will pulls her close then let's her down gently into the crib. He'd wanted to sing her a lullaby but in the eight short weeks they'd learnt her patterns that still felt like a desperate and shaky, wonderful dream. Silence put her to sleep, lullabies roused her gently with a gurgle or a whimper, but for now, more than ever before in her little life, Will needs her to sleep. Soundly.

"They're gone" she muses, watching him, the length of his arms, the strength in his stance, even with a shiny plastic bottle glimmering in one hand. Will turns without making a sound. There is a smirk, a glance up and down before he saunters to the living room leaving the bottle on the counter.

"Don't touch it" he's firm, eyes fixed on her, not her face, everything. The red floral sweater she'd ironed just before Finn and Rachel arrived for lunch. The skirt he'd bought her before her body swelled with their baby.

"I'm just going to put it in the sink"

No, she isn't. Their's is a game of leading and following that Will has owned since this morning when he'd peered at her in the shower and let himself get caught, licking his lips.

"Take it off". The room is hot, Emma glances over her shoulder to the nursery. Maybe this wasn't the right time after all, maybe they should wait another week.

A long quick step, she hears and Will is in front of her. The room is hotter.

"Take it off" he repeats, she glared back at him. It's more than seduction, it's a challenge that would take two to battle.

He stares with hooded eyes, she lifts the sweater and lets it fall to the floor. That was a surprise, but he has his own arsenal because instead of pulling her close, pushing her chest into his, Will freezes everything but his lips.

"Take it all off", he cracks. He means the lacy bra. For all his words of inspiration and romance he never has the words for her breasts, her hips, her ass.

He can see the change and she reaches back to unhinge herself, the straps fall with a greater weight than they used to. Everything is fuller, he wonders if there are other changes too. Whether she will moan louder, arch her back further.

Her nipples are flushed, they are a trick though, that much he knows. They appear cool, but in preparation for tonight he's been repossessing them. They're achingly warm.

Jennifer is happy with the bottle, the reason was so sweet and innocent and yet Will found himself literally thanking God when the decision had been made because with sleeping and greedy fingers now he could sneak them across her chest at night and watch her revel in her newfound sensitivity that peaked between his fingers.

She keeps going. Skirt, panties. Lingering a little too long on herself with her forefinger. She smiles, stealing the lead. With one step she connects to him, feels her naked self pressing into the buttons on his shirt.

There is a growl. Genuine frustration, his tongue is violent but shortlived in her mouth. Will sucks on her bottom lip and while the rest of her body stands waiting, Emma can hear him grasping for air and sucking, the pressure is everywhere and yet nowhere.

She reaches for his waste but he won't play, his muscles are so tense, she's going to lose and he still has her between his teeth.

"Damn it!" she pushes him back, like he knew she would. Their sex life was littered with her curses, sighed as he enters her or screamed as he thrusts one last time. This time it's a woefully deliberate attempt to force his next move.

Will shrugs, simmers to the armchair, where he can watch her from across the room. Her bottom lip bloated, tender. She puts her hands on her hips, exacerbated He spreads his knees wider.

The watching, that was all part of the dance. Since Jennifer cried her arrival, and maybe even before then when Emma's pregnant body took over her frame, Will had felt a searing need he assumed was primal. A possessiveness over the little girl that was his daughter and the beautiful woman that was his wife. It was mostly a tension point, Emma didn't need protection and she certainly wasn't a possession.

But when she catches his eye and bounces slowly towards him, there's a rush in his pants. That was all for him, even if he did have to fight for it.

"You never play fair" she hushes with her eyes on the bulge in his pants. It's painful when she gets on her knees. And it had a;; been painfully unfair.

He had apologised for minutes after the first time, until Jennifer cried and finally there was something real to worry about.

_I don't want you to feel like you have to… you know. I'll wait._

_Will, it's okay. You like it. _

_Do you? I mean, with your mouth, I know it's not… romantic._

_I like seeing what it does to you. Seeing what reaction I can get, it's very sexy. _

And so it had continued, the pleasure of her lips, her tongue, looking up at him until it all became too much. _God, Em! Don't stop._

"Please stand up" he says, feeling her hands drape off him with regret. "I want to make you scream tonight".

She snickers as she straddles. Nimble fingers on his jeans as he works his own shirt.

"I want something from you" she mews seductively, lowering his underwear and warming up everything with her heat.

He's staring at her chest again. Not even realising that his hands and holding her upright.

"I want you to tell me what you want"

"This. These"

"My breasts? Why?"

"Because they're so… full"

"Here you go" she says a little louder than expected. Because his hands are busy gripping her lower back, making red marks that will stay for days, his mouth opens. And his tongue makes gentle swirls and he grunts.

It's volatile, his hunger for her. But she won't let her self be swayed.

"Now I want you, inside me"

And it's all so easy, Will is ready and Emma was ready to ask.

The real dance begins, it's painful, just a bit. "…so good" he groans, moving her up and down. This isn't the gentleman that wiped her brow in the hospital room, this isn't the father of her child.

She's his lover, bare, holding her breath, closing her eyes, inching closer however she can. "Harder" she whispers, but it's her that rules the momentum, the squeezes her legs tighter, that digs her nails into the headrest.

He bites. Hard. She likes it. She squeals, never one to shy away from a firm tentative hand on her neck or the pulling of her hair when he takes her from behind. But now she's on top of him.

Needy. But it's all still Emma, when he bites down again and pinches her buttocks hard, it's still her smile, her red skin, still her ginger hair never out of place.

"Come. Come Emma" she's trying. So finally, after a day of longing, he gives her something, an offering of peace, a momentary lapse in the battle of tango.

"Come now. Here with me. And then you know what? I want to see you in the mirror in the bathroom. I'm going to come inside you and we can see each other, in the mirror"

She moans. It's louder than he remembers. And when it's all over they rest for a moments, she relishes the way he feels, warm and cold all the same time.

Red lights play on the baby monitor, Jennifer's gentle snores are still enough to capture their gazes.

Then a kiss. His finger gently through her hair. Soft, sweet. The collection of their clothing, victims of the seduction battle. An arm on the small of her back and she walks to the kitchen, at last putting the plastic bottle in the sink. A promise that with longing will always come seduction.


	2. Chapter 2

The Waltz; the swaying pendulum of dance.

Turn, step, swivel. The door shuts, her wake up call. A gliding rhythm, one she is learning to despise.

She keeps her head on the sofa cushion, stretching her legs, hoping he'll break formation.

"I tried calling you"

His gym bag hits the ground. His feet, so gifted and lovely, keep a safe distance from her.

"Sorry. I spent a little longer at the gym"

Emma can't blame him for that. He loves the gym, always has. A chance to glide and run. A chance to get out of this awful dance that has gone on for over a month.

He leaves every morning, and already then she can't keep up with him. Always sleeping to heavily, never hearing him stir.

So instead of kissing him with her mouth wide open, letting the sheets fall off them, she reads the note he writes and rolls her eyes at the plate of food next to them. Always different, but always predictable.

_Blueberry pancakes. Enjoy. Love you._

Emma had known other couples that did this dance. Some always had, some learnt it after years of mundane routine. It was pleasant and simple enough. Will didn't yell or leave his dirty laundry at the foot of the bed. But it so stark, a lifetime away for the eyes that flashed warmth at her through the glass of the office.

They'd had lessons before the wedding, for her of course, Will was already flawless.

_It's the waltz Will, we have to do it, it's tradition. _

He had pulled her too close. _Not like that guys, you have to stand tall_, the instructor had asserted.

_I like our way better_, Will had whispered, and wrapped his palm around her rear, pretending not to notice when she stepped on his foot.

"I ironed your shirt. It would be nice if we could get there early to help them set up" she had texted him twice and no doubt Burt had reminded him about the surprise party for Kurt, the same that Emma had been fretting over for a week.

"I'm going to give it a miss. You go though, if you want. A night out would be good for you". Emma could feel herself glare with heat in her eyeballs. Will fell into the armchair that they both knew was uncomfortable, kicking off his sneakers. He wrestled with the band of his watch, confused. He doesn't look like a leader, with sweat still beaded on his forehead, and yet he was making all the rules.

She inhales, ready to spin brilliantly, to take charge, change the tempo. To fight for him.

"I want you to come with me"

He speaks into the hands in his lap. "I told Sue I'd babysit. You know she doesn't like to leave Midge with people she doesn't trust"

"What about me? What about what I want?"

And because the constant beat was an enemy, the doorbell rings. Will stands, walks, turns the doorknob. Somewhere under that stiff façade is the brilliant impulsive man who kept her up at night; always waiting nervously to see what he would do next, how he could sway her.

_Can we drink wine in the bedroom on my birthday? I want to feel you giggle when you lie on me._

"Schuester! I was just telling Midge about that summer you spent stealing tail feathers from swans in Disney Land to make your wig", Sue is warm and biting. Emma blinks, breathes and stands. Midge gurgles, running chubby, tiny fingers through her dark hair that curls on itself so vibrantly.

"Effie, good to see you up and about. Apologies if little Midge here tries to climb up your leg, she might confuse you with a fire hydrant"

There is more speaking of course but all Emma can see is the contrast of Midge's dark skin against the crook of Will's elbow.

Sue is gone and he bounces the baby, plants a kiss on the top of her head spontaneously. Emma won't look anymore. At last he is happy. Blissfully so, cooing at the little person. She can hear him rustle into the diaper back from the bedroom where she slips on a dress she knows won't feel right.

Midge is crawling now, so advanced for her age. She spots the rhythm of Emma's t-straps, moving towards them. Emma reaches down, towards the first sincere smile in weeks.

"I got her" Will swoops, Midge giggles at the alarming speed in which he scoops of her from the ground to safety.

"I can hold her, you know", she feels the tears sting and her voice crack "I'm not contagious, Will"

"Emma, can we not do this now?" he sits Midge on the play mat, and for a moment, they both stare longingly. Will at the baby that was growing so quickly and Emma at her nails that had lost their strength and beyond them to the ridges of her hips that shoot out like a cruel reminder that she will never move the way he needs her to.

Her challenge is over. There is no more energy to be spent. She looks back to the sofa, her only refuge. But Will needs her to keep moving, moving away so that he won't have to see their dreams fading. He chuckles at Midge, Emma can't bare to think why.

"Zip me up" she swallows tears. Turning for him, he puts her fingers at the base of her spine, a gift for doing something right, "I won't be late" she offers him.

He is a seasoned performer, ready to play the game. "Just make sure you eat something there. I made sure Burt bought plenty of carrot sticks, but promise me you'll at least try to eat some meat. You know what the doctor said"

She knows. She still feels Will's hand in hers after their first visit, tight and clammy. At the second appointment he let her go, too caught up in questions and answers, as if there were steps he could study so they could beat this.

Now the doctor is just their stage, where they present a united front, but as always the medical lights fade and they retreat, Emma to the sofa, where she wraps herself in a blanket and counts the days obsessively until more chemotherapy and Will to the gym, the school, the kitchen where he prepares meals just for her with an intensity he only reserved for the Glee club.

His fingers leave the zipper and her neck. They turn together at Midge's cry, pointing at the door with betrayal in her eyes, with nothing to distract her she remembers her Mother, gone.

It's an instinct in Emma, one she's surprised she's still capable of. Going to the baby, she joins her on the floor. They sit together, still. Not moving, not performing practised steps. Emma grins and pats the little girl's fingers, with Midge she feels strong, a giant.

Not like the night they found out, she felt so little in Will's arms then.

_We'll beat this. We'll get you the best doctors. We'll be okay. _

"Stay there" Will croaked, an instruction again, she breathes out the frustration as Mage palms her way into her lap. "Look happy" says Will, flashing the camera, as if he could order all their emotions to change. Sad to happy, scared to safe. He won't stop, flash after flash. Emma's back aches, she hasn't told him that. It would only mean another stride into the doctor's office, and she's so tired.

"Stop Will. I have to go"

"I just want to remember you like this", his voice is soft, calling a freeze. Midge is entranced, almost too conveniently in the television and Will puts down the camera, no more façade, no more keeping the place.

Emma stands, sensing now it's her turn.

"I'm coming back, you know", a step all her own.

"No I don't" he swallows, weaker than she's ever seen him.

"Will, you're so busy you wouldn't even notice if I didn't"

"That's not funny"

"It's not meant to be"

The stand close, partners. Their arms are laxed, nothing is right about the way they stand, her frail and slumped, him so rigid he might snap.

"Why do you want me to go?"

"You need to keep moving!" he shouts and it's out of context, but it's a challenge she can match,

"Will, I'm tired. I have cancer! I can't keep food down, I'm losing my hair. So I'm sorry if you need me to keep moving but I can't anymore!"

"You need to stay…I…" his lips are hard. He won't let more words out.

"You want me to stay or go, Will? Order me around, fine! But you better know what you're doing to both of us because I can't take this!", the fight in her voice is overwhelming and exhausting, she rocks on the spot, feeling light headed.

"I thought you were gone!"

"Where-"

"I saw you sleeping and you were so still…. And so… sick and I…God, I thought….and I can't watch you die. I won't do it. So you need to keep moving!", it looks like outrage on his face and it won't be contained.

Midge squeals, Will is red. She takes his hand, remember his proposal and the moment the fertility doctor had referred them to the oncologist. The pendulum kept swinging them, but for now they had each other if only by the palm.

Leading him to the chair, he falls into it willingly. The dance of the last month has exhausted them both. Emma puts herself in his lap, bending her knees, trying desperately to ignore the chunky weight of her shoes as they hang over the edge.

"Stop" she faces him, padding her fingertips along his bottom lip. He can't speak and at last she knows his listening, tears linger then come crashing down. It's not a perfect sequence, but delicate uneven streams.

"Do you remember that summer we moved in together? You spent so long bleaching this place you had blisters up your arms", Emma chokes, Will's eyes widen in alarm. She wishes momentarily that they were back in the incessant dance where the only words were empty ones. She puts her hand on his cheek.

"I knew then that you were going to do anything to make me happy" her words fade in tears, he blinks, they listen to Midge move evenly along the carpet. "But I'm not happy and it's not because I'm scared of what might happen, I am, so much but I need you. And I'm sorry, I wish I didn't, and I wish you didn't have to watch this but you do". He presses his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry I need you so much" she whispers.

He kisses her, even though Midge is pulling of his sock, even though it's probably a stunt in one of Sue's evil schemes.

"I can't be without you" his lips move but his body keeps still.

"I know, stop trying" she says, finally resting. Head to shoulder.

The baby at their feet is impish, pulling off another sock. For now she had forgotten her Mother again, but it will only be a matter of time.

"You're really beautiful to watch, you know that?" he whispers into her cheek, she can feel his breath, relieved that it's stopped shaking. "I promise I'll try harder to take the lead"

She closes her eyes, holding off sleep for one more moment. Tomorrow there would be all new steps to learn. "Hold me tonight" she mused, an instruction of her own because there would always be so much to teach eachother.


End file.
